


Argent Gossamer

by crowbeau



Series: Newlyweds Disregard the War for the Sake of Love [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Breeding, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 16:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21039215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowbeau/pseuds/crowbeau
Summary: Seteth's heat finally rolls around but it seems it's been giving him some trouble.  He confides in Byleth, admitting he wants them to take the next step in their relationship and have a child.  Having spent some time with Flayn, Byleth agrees that it's a good idea to consider their future together.  (Contains mild spoilers for Seteth, Rhea, and Flayn's identities and pasts).





	Argent Gossamer

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, everyone, for your patience. me and my poor immune system were stricken suddenly by some debilitating virus in september so this is getting posted a lot later than i was anticipating. regardless, i hope you enjoy!
> 
> *my byleth is on the BL route. not that it matters much, but just in case yall are die-hard CF kiddos, be warned!
> 
> *also i should mention that there is some mild reference to draconic anatomy so if half-transformations aren't your style, best to sit this one out ;-)  
(but c'mon, yall know me, this bird can't resist a good dragon) <3

“C’mon,” said Byleth, squeezing Flayn’s hand, “it’ll be a bit. Would you like to tell Seteth about your catch?”

Flayn had met Byleth earlier at the dock in the afternoon and kept her company while the professor went about her usual fishing business.

Their conversations always made Byleth’s heart feel lighter.

The professor had admitted that she was relieved Flayn had had no trouble supporting her relationship with Seteth. And, in turn, Flayn had confided in Byleth, delighted by the turn of events. (She’d recommended Byleth ask Seteth to switch from fables to romantic tales; the professor had promised to speak with him about it).

Flayn’s eyes lit up and she smiled, “Oh, I suppose now that you mention it, he would like to hear of our progress, isn’t that right, Professor?”

“I’m sure he’ll be proud of you,” Byleth murmured as Flayn pulled her along.

Several of the students from Byleth’s House were clustered nearby. Annette hopped to a stand and hurried over with a slight pout.

“Professor-!” she hissed, “Felix is _insisting _he skip the faith and reason lecture tomorrow so he can spend more time sparring!”

Byleth blinked and her gaze softened.

“It’s his choice, you know, Annie.”

“Oh, I know that! But, Professor, he’s always nagging about how his magic is so far behind his swordsman skills and it would just be so much _easier _if he just-,”

She shook her fists and growled.

“Oh, nevermind! It’s not my business anyway! Right, Professor? Tell me it’s none of my business!”

Byleth glanced over to the table. Mercedes was hiding a giggle behind her hand as Sylvain slung an arm around Felix with a lopsided grin.

Flayn patted Byleth’s hand.

“I will be right back, Professor,” she said softly, “I am-, I would like to share the news of our success with my-, brother.”

Byleth gave her a small nod and an encouraging smile. The girl returned it and hurried over to Seteth.

The professor turned back to Annette, who stomped her foot indignantly.

“I already asked Professor Hanneman to talk with Felix about it but then he totally egged Professor Manuela on in the Cathedral earlier and, oh, you know how Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela are! The two of them got into one of their spats and Felix slipped away and I-!”

“I’ll talk with him, Annie,” Byleth reassured.

Annette let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Professor,” she said, “he’s just letting so much talent go to waste and it’s driving me nuts!”

The little mage paced back to the table and resettled beside Mercedes, placated. Byleth turned to see Seteth and Flayn talking and a slow smile crept across her face.

Her family-,

“_What_-?” Seteth hissed, pushing quickly to a stand.

Byleth’s smile wavered, concern taking root in her heart. Seteth turned and when he did, he caught sight of the professor and then pinked. Byleth stalked over, consumed by such a reaction.

“Father-,”

“Is everything alright-?” the professor asked, stepping up to Flayn’s side.

The girl took her hand and Byleth squeezed it gently.

“I-, yes, of course,” Seteth said, hurrying to clear his throat before folding his hands behind his back, “although it seems I must be going.”

“What?” said Byleth, “Did Flayn tell you about the fish she caught? It was quite impressive, Seteth.”

The adviser nodded, “Yes, I am-, proud.”

He turned to Flayn and there was some dark emotion in his eyes. But he simply nodded again before striding off.

Byleth turned to look at Flayn. She was frowning, lost in thought.

“Flayn-,”

“Professor,” she said, “I think I shall have dinner with the rest of the House this evening, if that’s alright with you.”

It was Byleth’s turn to frown.

“Perhaps you and I may share a meal with Father at a later date.”

Her voice was light but Byleth felt annoyance raise gooseflesh down her arms at the thought of how easily Seteth had fled.

“You did well today, Flayn,” the professor said gently.

“I would like it very much if we could sit at the dock together again sometime,” she answered.

Byleth nodded, “Of course.”

“Will you be staying to eat with us, Professor?”

Byleth glanced back towards the exit.

“I think I’d-,”

She wanted to go confront Seteth about his uncharacteristic behaviour; it was unlike him to be so dismissive of Flayn’s progress.

“Are you worried about my father?”

“Just a bit,” Byleth confessed.

Flayn smiled softly at her.

“Perhaps we may speak again later. Mother.”

Her cheeks were pink and Byleth resisted the urge to kiss her atop her minty head; the other cubs might get jealous if they were to see such a thing.

“You don’t have to call me that if it makes you feel strange, Flayn.”

“No, I _do_ want-, it is new to me, Professor, that is all. I do truly enjoy calling you Mother.”

Byleth’s gaze softened and the anxiety in her chest subsided as she watched Flayn make her way over to the table and join her fellow cubs. She settled down between Dedue and Dimitri. Sylvain made some comment and gave Flayn a wink. Dimitri glowered at him and Felix nudged his leg beneath the table.

The professor sighed, pacified, and trailed out into the night.

***

The upper floors were quiet as Byleth made her way to Seteth’s office. She played over the earlier events in her mind, wondering what Flayn could’ve possibly said to result in Seteth’s startled reaction.

And then there was the matter of that depth in his gaze before he’d left them; had it upset him to hear that Byleth had fished with Flayn?

The professor knew it to be a shared pastime between him and his late wife, but was that really the cause of his distress? He had made it rather apparent that he was in love with Byleth and that he was eager to rekindle his family with her.

“Rekindle… a family…” she mused absently.

When the door to his office came open without warning, Seteth straightened like a startled cat. When he saw that it was only Byleth, the tension slipped from his shoulders and the adviser let out a relieved sigh.

“Professor,” he greeted, “what can I do for you?”

He had tucked his dark hair back behind his pointed ears; it was most unlike him, even now.

“What was that all about?” Byleth asked, getting right to the point, “Earlier, in the Mess Hall. You looked like you’d seen a ghost. Did you tell Flayn that you were proud of her? She caught that fish on her own today. I think she was really excited to share the news with you, Seteth.”

As Byleth approached, Seteth got to a stand and shifted around the desk, keeping it between them. The professor frowned.

“What’s going on with you tonight? Are you feeling alright?”

“I assure you,” Seteth said quickly, “I am perfectly fine, Professor.”

Byleth seemed unconvinced.

“Then why are you-,” she gestured to the space he was keeping between them, “this is-, it’s unlike you. _Talk _to me, Seteth.”

“Professor-,”

“You hurt Flayn’s feelings earlier,” Byleth said finally, and the shake of her voice was the only indication that this was beginning to get under her skin, “I think she was quite proud of herself. She wanted you to acknowledge her progress. And you skittered off like a frightened animal, Seteth.”

“I am not-,”

The adviser sighed but he didn’t make a move to flee from Byleth as she finally rounded the desk and took his hands in her own.

“Talk to me,” she repeated quietly, gazing up into his face.

Up close, Byleth could see the faintest bags beneath his eyes; had he been having trouble sleeping? They’d slept together for many moons now, how had she not noticed-?

“Professor,” Seteth said finally, “it was not my intention to upset Flayn. She-, happened to refer to you in an odd way and I was simply-, startled by it.”

Byleth squinted at him.

“She called you-, ‘Mother,’” he elaborated, “and I…”

The professor nodded slowly; trying to get Seteth to open up to her often felt like pulling teeth.

“Byleth,” he breathed, “I-, have been struggling with myself these past few moons. After we worked through your heat and discussed our family together, I-,”

He looked away from her.

“I have had the-, _urge_-, to do more than simply mate you. Earlier, to hear my daughter call you her mother was-, Professor, for a moment, these fantasies that have kept me up quite late into the night-, they came true.”

Byleth blinked, taking in this information slowly.

“I cannot tell if these thoughts are my own or if they are some cloudy concoction resulting from the heat that hangs over me, but know that I have had-, difficulty with this. It was never my intention to hurt you—or Flayn. I wished to discuss this matter with you but-, it seems that I cannot find the proper words, even now.”

When Seteth looked into her face to gauge her reaction, Byleth put her hands to his chest and pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, pulling him into a kiss.

The adviser gasped into her mouth, startled by the contact. But after only a moment’s hesitation, he eased his arms around her and kissed Byleth back.

When they parted, Seteth appeared somewhat placated.

“Now,” said Byleth, and her voice was soft as she gazed up into his face, “that wasn’t so difficult, was it? You must _talk _to me about these things, Cichol.”

At the sound of his true name, Seteth couldn’t help but shiver, a lick of desire unfurling in his belly.

“_Professor_-,”

“I-, take it you’ve talked with Flayn about this, then?”

Seteth blinked and then his cheeks reddened. He couldn’t look at Byleth.

“Yes,” he admitted quietly, “I did not wish to upset her in regards to-,”

“The prospect of giving her a sibling,” Byleth finished.

Seteth nodded, his inhale sharp between them.

“_Yes_, Professor,” he agreed tightly.

The corner of Byleth’s mouth twitched as she resisted the urge to shoot him a teasing smile; it was nice to know he could get riled up so easily when it came to expanding their family.

“Well I s’ppose it’s good that we had this talk.”

Seteth blinked.

“It-, was-?”

“If your heat’s here, then this’ll be the best time to try, won’t it?” said Byleth, watching him carefully.

Seteth blinked again. The professor wondered if her teasing had gone too far.

“To try-,”

“For the baby, Seteth. We’ll be trying to make a baby.”

The adviser said nothing for a long moment. Byleth squinted up at him, squeezing his hands in her own.

“Seteth-?”

“Yes-,” he said finally, “I-, cannot imagine anything more perfect, Byleth.”

It was the professor’s turn to blink. To see Seteth wearing so fond an expression-,

Byleth closed her eyes as she brought the adviser’s hand to her lips and pressed a long, tender kiss to his knuckle.

“Cichol,” she breathed against his skin, lifting her gaze slowly to his face, “I want-, I want to build a family with you. Properly, this time.”

When Seteth said nothing and only stared down at her, Byleth embraced him, curling her hands in his robes.

“I want to make a life with you, to give Flayn the sibling she deserves, to give you the _family_ you’ve always deserved. Will you-, let me do that for you?”

“Byleth-,” Seteth choked into her hair, and he squeezed her so hard that her back popped, “I-, to think that even now, after all that has happened, that I might be allowed a second chance at happiness-,”

“_Seteth_-,”

He withdrew and rubbed an eye with the heel of his palm, sucking in an unsteady breath.

“Byleth, tonight, could you and I-, perhaps we could-, make love-?”

When the professor shot him an amused look, Seteth quickly elaborated with: “What I mean to say is that I would like-, to make love with the intention of-, producing a child with you, Professor.”

As his words registered, a shy smile lit up Byleth’s face and she nodded slowly.

“I-, would like that, Seteth. Very much so.”

The adviser let out a small relieved sound, “It pleases me, more than you shall ever know, Professor, to hear you say such a thing.”

He paused, his expression darkening with some minute pain.

“I have been vigilant for so long,” Seteth murmured, “watching over Cethleann as she recovered-, and then when we found Seiros-, that is to say, Lady Rhea, I-, it has never been easy, this attempt to walk alongside those who wield what remains of my family. Even so, we could not flee, despite the danger that lurked around every corner. And the solace found here-, that too, was temporary. The invasion served as sufficient proof that nowhere is truly safe for us. And yet, Professor, when I heard that you had returned to this place, I-,”

Seteth trailed off and Byleth laced her fingers between his. It hurt to see him recall his battered past; he did not deserve such cruelty. He did not need to carry such burdens and hold onto such memories.

“It’s okay, Cichol,” she murmured, “just breathe, Cichol.”

Seteth sucked in a slow breath and nodded wordlessly.

Once he’d regained himself, the adviser gave Byleth a soft smile. He still looked tired, but relieved. That reassured the professor.

“Byleth,” said Seteth, and he sounded quite serious again as he swept the crisp parchment at his desk into an orderly stack, “I-, it is only right that I do my best to explain things properly.”

The professor frowned.

“What’s there to explain?”

Seteth straightened and cleared his throat. He avoided looking at Byleth.

“This will be-, it will be my first heat since having mated you,” he explained quietly, “and I feel it necessary to admit to you that I-, I am not certain as to-, whether or not this will affect our relationship. I find myself almost hesitant. But, Professor, at the same time, I cannot deny that I-,”

Byleth stepped up to him and cupped his cheek. Seteth trailed off and nestled into the warmth of her palm. The movement was miniscule but Byleth didn’t miss it; it was the subtle differences in his behaviour around her that pleased her so much.

Even if they still maintained strictly business-like personas around Garreg Mach, there was no denying the lingering gazes, the tender brush of fingertips across palms, the bows that hid tiny smiles. Byleth liked this side of Seteth best, the affection that seeped from him even as he stood tall as adviser to the Archbishop.

“_Seteth_-,” she breathed, nearly overcome with emotion.

It was tough, welcoming these new experiences. Since Byleth’s merge with Sothis, things had been-, deeper. Everything was still so new. And this feeling, it hurt. It hurt with such intensity and such overwhelming weight, as though her body could not hold such love within its heart.

“It has grown late now,” Seteth said quietly, “perhaps, it will be best if you and I-,”

The rest of his sentence was lost as Byleth pulled him into another kiss. It had begun as a chaste one, but Seteth instinctively deepened it, his heat pushing him into delicious over-eagerness.

When they parted, Seteth’s cheeks were stained with blush. Byleth could only smile at him.

“It’s beginning now, isn’t it? Your heat?” she asked.

Seteth sighed quietly.

“It is,” he confirmed, “I-, we ought to make for my chamber now, Professor.”

“For the sake of our future.”

Seteth sucked in a shallow breath and he nodded, “For the sake of our future indeed, Byleth.”

***

Despite Seteth’s typical stone-faced behaviour in public, he did not release Byleth’s hand as she trailed after him into the hallway. He kept a tight grip on her, his palm sweaty against hers.

Byleth recalled what he’d said regarding his own heat; he’d wished for something manic, as hers had been. Perhaps now that they were rightly and properly mated, he would get his wish.

Despite herself, Byleth hoped so. How lovely would it be, to have Seteth nearly overcome by his heat, desperate to pleasure the professor and to take her until there was no doubt that she was filled with their child?

To think that their efforts would not merely be to satiate the Nabatean need, but instead with the intention of expanding their family-,

To make love for the sake of having a baby-,

“_Byleth_-,” Seteth hissed, turning on her suddenly, “by the _Goddess_, what are you thinking?”

The professor blinked. Seteth’s pupils were slit like a cat’s and his sharp teeth peeked out as his mouth moved. Before Byleth could say anything else, Seteth pressed closer to her and inhaled the scent right above her pulse; she could feel the warmth of his breath even through her garb. He was trembling, hands bunching in the fabric of her overcoat.

“I was just-, this time, I s’ppose things will be different; it’ll be-, _special_. Won’t it, Seteth?”

What had made him spin on her so suddenly?

The adviser drew back and studied Byleth. His cheeks were stained with blush and he almost looked pained. Byleth tipped her head to the side, curious.

“You-,”

Seteth seemed agitated.

But Byleth didn’t get the chance to inquire further, as the adviser pressed her back against the wall, ducking again to inhale her scent above her hammering pulse.

“_Byleth_-,” he groaned against the fabric of her collar, “I-, am so very selfish to wish it, but-, were our heats to eventually overlap, _I_-,”

His voice was gruff and Byleth felt arousal skirt up her spine at the proximity. Anyone could see them. How would they react, seeing the adviser to the Archbishop plastering the Goddess Reborn against the nearest wall?

Seteth was so _close_ and so _warm_ and Byleth went light-headed when the adviser mouthed at the fabric of her collar.

He moaned against her, the sound aching and desperate.

“Byleth-,” Seteth breathed, “_Byleth_-,”

“Hush, hush,” she answered in kind, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ears and ease her hand down his spine, “let’s get past the Captain’s Quarters now, yes?”

Seteth hummed, non-committal and Byleth could only let out an amused sigh.

There was the sound of movement down the hallway and the professor took Seteth’s hand in her own.

“We can’t go disturbing the others, understand?”

Seteth nodded slowly and took a step back, giving Byleth some space.

“Hanneman and Manuela are likely still working,” she reminded, “you wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise now, would you?”

Seteth frowned at her, uncomprehending.

“The-, surprise?” he echoed, mystified.

Byleth cupped his cheek again and her gaze was soft as she looked up into his face.

“Yes, Cichol-,” she breathed gently, “you’ll want to tell them all about the baby as soon as you can, right?”

The adviser blinked slowly and as Byleth’s words registered, his face went bright red. When he opened his mouth to reply, no words came.

Byleth chuckled, amused.

“C’mon now, you,” she said, pulling him into the stairwell, “we’re nearly there, Seteth.”

***

When they reached Seteth’s chamber, Byleth struggled to lock the door as the adviser fumbled with her garb.

“_Professor_,” he muttered, hands trembling as he attempted to rid her of her overcoat, “Professor, how did you cope-?”

At the shake of his voice, Byleth turned to slowly scrutinise him, concerned.

“Set-,”

“It’s roaring,” Seteth whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and putting his forehead to her shoulder, “it is so loud in my ears, so hot inside me-, I feel as though-, as though my blood is _boiling_, Byleth-,”

“It’s alright,” she murmured, embracing him carefully and rubbing circles across his back, “you’ll be alright. We’ll get through this. Together, Seteth. Do you understand?”

“_Yes_-,” he gasped against her, “yes, I-, I understand.”

Byleth hummed approvingly and pressed a quick kiss to the crown of his head.

“Good,” she praised softly, “now, let’s get you to the bed.”

Seteth shuffled after Byleth, his breathing ragged in her ear; the professor worried minutely that his heat was putting him in severe pain.

But as soon as she settled on the edge of the bed, Seteth pushed her back with startling force and tangled his fingers in her hair, covering her lips with his own.

“Byleth-,” he gasped when he withdrew for a breath, “_Byleth_-, claim me, won’t you, please-?”

The professor blinked.

“Claim-?”

Seteth let out a low sound, dissatisfied.

“_Yes_-,” he murmured, minutely impatient as he rolled over onto his back beside her, “mark me as your mate.”

“Oh,” breathed Byleth, blinking wide, “ah-, you Nabateans are quite the possessive bunch, aren’t you?”

When Seteth didn’t immediately reply, the professor chuckled softly as she settled across his middle, undoing the fastenings down the front of his robe.

“No, that’s not quite it-,” Byleth mused, pushing the fabric back from Seteth’s skin, “maybe it’s more accurate to say _you’re _the possessive one.”

The adviser shuddered as Byleth’s warm breath radiated across his exposed skin and she ducked down, hovering just above his hammering pulse.

“That’s the truth of it, isn’t it, Cichol?”

Seteth rolled his head back, panting. His chest rose and fell rapidly as Byleth finally pressed a slow kiss to his throat.

“I’ll mark you,” the professor reassured, and the brush of her lips across his neck made Seteth shake uncontrollably, “but know that even when those bruises fade, you’ll still be mine, sweet Saint.”

Before Seteth could even begin to formulate a response in his mind, Byleth ducked down and bit into his exposed skin.

The adviser keened, one hand reflexively going to the back of Byleth’s head, holding her in place.

“Yes-, _Professor_-!” he choked out, tipping his head back to allow her better access to his unmarked skin, “more, Byleth-, _more_-!”

The professor wouldn’t deny him, not when he was all but begging for her. In spite of this, Seteth seemed minutely concerned that she had other plans; he hitched a leg up over her hip in an attempt to keep her close.

“Byleth-,” he hissed, “_Byleth_-,”

The professor dug her blunt teeth into the skin at his throat and Seteth keened, pleased despite his desperation.

“Ah,” Byleth breathed, “you liked that-?”

“Yes-, _yes_, Byleth-!”

She smiled against his skin and nosed her way beneath the curl of his dark hair. Seteth sucked in a sharp breath when Byleth slowly traced the cartilage of his pointed ear with her tongue.

“_By_-,” he choked.

“_Hush_,” Byleth murmured, and her voice was so close and so soft and so warm and when she bit his earlobe-,

“Byleth-, _I’m-,_”

The rest of Seteth’s sentence was lost as he pulled the professor close, moaning against her shoulder. When he finally released his grip on her, Byleth blinked at him.

“Did-, Seteth, did you just-,”

Surely, he hadn’t-, Byleth had hardly touched him, he wouldn’t have-, couldn’t have cum already-!

“_Again_-,” Seteth rasped, “more, Byleth-, it isn’t enough, Byleth, please-,”

The professor leant back and took in Seteth beneath her, a panting mess in his soiled robes.

“Oh-, my sweet Saint,” she breathed softly, “you’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you, Cichol.”

For a long moment, Seteth could only stare up at her. And then he nodded slowly, relieved despite himself.

“I know, Byleth. I love you, Byleth.”

The professor bent and pressed a slow kiss to Seteth’s lips. His eyes fluttered closed as he welcomed her. The tension slipped from his form as she methodically undid his wrecked garb.

“I love you too, Seteth,” she whispered against his mouth, “but let’s get you out of these clothes now, yes?”

“Yes-,”

“I want you to be comfortable, Cichol. Do you understand?”

When Seteth didn’t immediately reply, Byleth’s hands halted their progress and she centred her minty gaze upon him.

“Seteth. Do you understand?”

“_Yes_-,” he bit out.

Sensing that he was somehow displeased, the professor frowned.

“Have I upset you?”’

“No-,” he murmured and his voice was strained between his bruised lips, “I-, I simply find it difficult to focus when you use that tone with me, Professor.” 

Byleth blinked, “What tone?”

Blush coloured Seteth’s cheeks and he refused to look up into her face, embarrassed.

“Whenever you ask whether I understand,” he clarified quietly, “that tone of yours, it is so-, _commanding_. I feel I must be weak to it.”

Byleth’s eyes widened as she took in this information.

“Ah?”

Seteth went red and said nothing else as Byleth resumed disrobing him.

The adviser seemed uncharacteristically more relaxed once Byleth had rid him of his clothes. He was still tacky between the legs, his own mess clinging to his toned thighs. But Byleth would be lying if she claimed to be any different; she was certain she’d dirtied her own garb quite fully at this point.

“Seteth,” Byleth breathed, resettling atop his middle, “I _want_-, let me ride you.”

When the adviser didn’t immediately reply, Byleth ducked low and traced her hands across his wide chest, studying the gentle curve of him from beneath the cover of her long lashes.

“Let me. Won’t you, Cichol?”

“_Please_-,” Seteth rasped out between shallow breaths.

He was trembling, delirious beneath Byleth and it took a great effort to focus on the professor hovering over him. Bless him; he was trying so hard to remain focused despite his heat. A slow smile crept across Byleth’s face.

“That’s a good Saint,” she praised softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

Seteth groaned at the contact, opening up eagerly for her. Byleth dipped away from his mouth in favour of brushing her lips across his bruised pulsepoint. 

The adviser keened at the attention and Byleth kept him busy beneath the caress of her tongue as she undid her breastplate one-handed.

When she withdrew to remove it, Seteth sighed, discontent.

“Patience now, Cichol,” Byleth said, amused as she hoisted her blouse over her head and swung it across the room.

Seteth reached up and squeezed the meat of her thighs, releasing a low, wounded sound.

“Byleth-,” he breathed, “I-, I need-,”

The professor cupped his cheek and brushed his hair from his face carefully.

“Just a bit longer,” she promised.

“I cannot possibly-,”

Byleth paused to reach over and snatch up the oil tin at Seteth’s bedside. 

“Alright,” she allowed, “I s’ppose it’s no good to keep you all pent up; some relief is in order.”

Seteth let out a grateful sigh and the tension slipped from his body at the promise of attention. Byleth leant back as she smeared oil across her palm. Seteth was still trying to catch his breath when the professor curled her hand around his swollen cock.

“_Byleth_-!” he choked out, startled, as she began to slowly pump her hand up and down his length.

“Hush, Cichol,” she murmured, thumbing his leaking slit with the pad of her finger, “I want to make you feel good; this is meant to be a happy time. Don’t look so distressed.”

“Professor, I-,”

Byleth traced the ridges of his cock with the edge of her fingernail and Seteth tossed his head back, gasping.

“_Byleth_-, _Byleth_-! I ca-, I’m going to-,”

And he spilt himself between her fingers with a sob, shuddering as the waves of pleasure overtook him once again.

“_Byleth_-,” Seteth muttered hoarsely as she continued to jerk him off, “that is-, far too much-,”

The professor slowed her pace and thumbed the tip of Seteth’s cock once more before bringing her finger to her mouth and tonguing at it softly.

Seteth let out a broken sound beneath her, desperation and exhaustion raging inside him.

“Now,” breathed Byleth, clambering off of him to discard her remaining garb, “let’s make this last one count. Sound good, Cichol?”

As she disrobed, she lifted her brows in a look of encouragement.

“It’s okay,” Byleth murmured, “you can keep going. You’ll have me in just a moment.”

“Byleth-,”

But Seteth seemed too exhausted to fight his needs any longer; his prim and proper persona fractured in the face of desire. (That was quite alright with Byleth, truth be told).

Seteth slowly lifted a hand and put it to his cock, curling his fingers around the shaft and pumping himself. The motions were unsteady with need and the adviser’s eyelids fluttered as he sank back against the pillows, precum beading at the tip of his length.

“Yes, very good,” Byleth praised quietly as she returned to her place across his trembling thighs.

Seteth cracked open an eye and regarded her hazily.

“Surely you have a bit of stamina left, don’t you?” Byleth asked carefully.

The adviser nodded, and the movement was slow, uncoordinated. Byleth assumed he was dipping beneath another wave of his heat; perhaps it was for the best.

“_Byleth_-,” Seteth murmured, and he had trouble focusing on her hovering above him, “Byleth, more-, I need to-, I need-,”

“I know, I know,” she cooed, “I’ll give you what you need. I’ll mate you properly, Cichol. You’ll give me your everything, won’t you?”

“You-, already have it,” he answered quietly, offering her his hands.

Byleth blinked; even as he was now, still he was saying such things-,

The professor clasped Seteth’s hands in her own and angled herself over his weeping cock.

“Breathe, Cichol,” Byleth reminded as she sank downwards.

Her pussy clenched around the head of Seteth’s cock like a vice and he hissed between his sharp teeth at the tight heat.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, we’re okay,” Byleth reassured shallowly, “we’re almost there now, Seteth.”

The adviser sucked in a sharp breath and nodded wordlessly, arching as Byleth sank lower onto his cock. 

“_Byleth-,_”

She was so tight and warm and Seteth wasn’t sure he was going to be able to hold himself together for much longer; he was so tired and this heat had done nothing but cruelly ravage him and he was so-,

“_Perfect_-,” Byleth whispered, settling her full weight across Seteth’s lap as she sheathed him inside herself completely.

The adviser let out a low groan as Byleth jerked her hips experimentally. 

“Now, now,” the professor breathed, “help me along, Cichol. It’s best when we work together, yes?”

Seteth bit his lip and nodded wordlessly, squeezing her hands as he gave her a shallow thrust. Byleth tipped her head back and let out a soft moan, grateful for the movement.

The next few thrusts were arrhythmic and the professor dropped one hand to Seteth’s hip, holding him steady as she set a suitable pace. Byleth only released her grip on him when Seteth finally matched her pattern.

He retook her hands in his own and Byleth’s pace began to falter as Seteth’s next few thrusts went rough; he was sloppy as he punched into the deepest recesses of her core, and some part of that rare desperation was exhilarating.

“Seteth-,” Byleth gasped, digging her fingernails into his knuckles, “_Oh, Seteth_-,”

“Byleth-,” the adviser choked, “I’m-,”

“Me too-,” she hissed, “I’m close. Fill me up now, Cichol. For the children, remember?”

_Children? _As in the… plural? At the implication—intentional or otherwise—that they would have more than just one child together-,

Seteth let out a low growl and Byleth blinked, startled by the sound; where had that muttering mess of a man disappeared off to-?

“_Eisner-_,” Seteth ground out, slipping his hands from hers so he could dig his nails into the skin at Byleth’s hips, “_take it_.”

Byleth went red as Seteth clasped her thighs with his wide palms, holding her down atop his cock as he pressed deeper into her with the next thrust. The adviser’s nails dug into Byleth’s skin and she hissed, pleasantly aroused by the pleasure-pain in his touch.

“_All _of it, Byleth,” Seteth murmured, “don’t miss a drop.”

The professor nodded jerkily, gasping as Seteth continued his assault upon her core, desperate to claim his own pleasure.

“Seteth-,”

“My _name_, Byleth.”

“_Cichol_-,” she corrected dazedly.

Seteth seemed pleased by the correction, as always.

“There’s a good girl, my Goddess,” he praised under his breath.

The nickname was enough to push Byleth over the edge and she spilt herself with a strangled sound. The professor tipped her head back as her orgasm unravelled in her belly, sending delicious pulses of absolute nonsense through her veins.

Seteth’s hip jerked as he gazed up at Byleth, eyes screwed shut as pleasure rocketed up her spine. Despite their positions, Seteth couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked, perching over him and gasping for breath as her twitching pussy clamped desperately around his cock, finally wringing his orgasm from him.

The adviser came with a low groan and he broke the skin across Byleth’s thighs with his nails as he held her down, spilling himself into the deepest parts of the professor.

Byleth was still out of it when Seteth manoeuvred her from atop him. She collapsed back against the sheets, eyes rolling as she tried to focus on his face.

“That was a-, _lot_,” she mumbled, squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to keep all the warmth of Seteth’s cum within.

The adviser was frowning a bit when Byleth finally centred her gaze on him.

“Are you alright-?”

Seteth nodded, though his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. He was stroking Byleth’s thighs thoughtfully with his thumbs. The professor simply watched him as she tried to regain her breath; she was still reeling from his sudden change in temperament earlier.

Byleth didn’t have much time to think on it, however, as Seteth pushed open her legs. His cum drizzled slowly from her pussy and the professor pinked beneath such scrutiny.

“Set-,”

“Though you say it was quite a load,” he mused to himself, “I find myself wondering… will it be enough?”

Byleth blinked slowly, uncomprehending.

“For the children, Professor,” Seteth reminded softly, and there was a dangerous undercurrent in his tone.

As Byleth tried to decipher just which emotion was dwelling there, Seteth slotted himself between her thighs and it was only the squelch of his cock pressed against her dripping pussy that drew her from her reverie.

“_Seteth_-,” the professor whispered, startled, “what-,”

“We must be thorough in this endeavour,” he breathed with his usual calmness, “so do bear with me, Professor. I simply must be certain, you see, that you’ve accepted my seed.”

“Again, then-?” Byleth wondered quietly, “Do you intend to keep me here until I’ve been properly bred by you-?”

“Ah, such a temptation is difficult to resist, I must confess,” said Seteth as he fitted himself into her again, “but I’m afraid that will not be until much later, Professor; you’ll not be bred tonight.”

“You certainly could’ve fooled me.”

The adviser sank deeper into Byleth, closing his eyes as her sweet heat clenched around him.

“Very good,” he praised, cocking one of her legs over his hip so he could rut into her at a better angle.

Byleth arched beneath him, gasping breathlessly at the shift.

“Ah,” breathed Seteth, “this is better, then? I do want you pleased, Professor.”

“Yes-,” Byleth hissed, tossing her head back on the next thrust, “it’s _good_-,”

Seteth rolled his hips again and Byleth threw her head back against the pillows with a sob.

“Set-Seteth, please-, I don’t want-,”

“It will be alright, Professor,” he murmured gently, “don’t fret.”

“I-, I’ve just never-,”

She’d always been afraid to lose herself to the pleasure so totally; it was better to just have the one orgasm and to let Seteth do whatever else he wanted to satisfy himself.

Byleth was content with that arrangement. And Seteth had never asked her about her reasons. And that was good.

But now-,

“_Seteth_-,”

“Breathe, Byleth,” the adviser said, “it’s alright. It’s alright to let go for a moment. I want you to enjoy this. I want you to remember this as a wonderful experience. I want you to _want _this, Byleth.”

“I-, I do-,”

“Then, won’t you please let me-,”

“_Yes_-, if-, if it’s you, Seteth. Then, perhaps I-,” Byleth trailed off and her expression was impossible to read.

The adviser slowed his motions as Byleth deliberated in her head. She reached her conclusion soon enough, however, and lifted her light gaze to meet his.

“Cichol,” she said, “I-, I do trust you. And I do want to carry on the Nabatean line with you. So, as many times as I must-,”

“Just once,” Seteth interrupted quietly, “just once more, Byleth. To be certain. We must be certain.”

The professor regarded him for a long moment. He looked remarkably handsome, poised over her in a subconscious gesture of protectiveness. 

It was like that before too, when he’d first learnt of her heat. Seteth had lifted her with such ease and knelt beside her, taking her hand with such gentleness. 

“Seteth-,” Byleth breathed-,

And there was something in the depth of her gaze, some emotion so heavy that the adviser folded beneath it and a groan slipped its way between his lips as he flooded Byleth’s twitching pussy.

She blinked, startled by Seteth’s sudden reaction.

“I-, haven’t even said anything-,” she muttered, half-amused.

“I am-, sorry for that,” offered Seteth, “I-, don’t know what came over me.”

“You’re full of surprises today, aren’t you? I can hardly follow you, Seteth. One moment you’re a blushing mess and the next, a domineering alpha. Which one is the real you-?”

Seteth folded his fingers between Byleth’s and bent, pressing a careful kiss to the crook of her neck as he pulled his softening cock from between her thighs.

“Ah, Professor, wouldn’t you like to think I am simply both?”

Byleth chuckled softly, “I s’ppose it would certainly keep things-, interesting.”

Seteth’s mouth trailed down her body and he disentangled his fingers from hers so he could reach up and squeeze one of her heavy breasts. Byleth jerked at the attention and Seteth pressed a quick kiss to her skin before mouthing at her other breast.

“_Set-,_”

The adviser flicked his tongue against Byleth’s nipple and she sucked in a shallow breath.

“_Seteth-,_” she tried again.

And she cringed a bit, to hear her voice so hoarse; perhaps the adviser’s own desperation had rubbed off on her.

“You know, Professor,” he murmured, and his breath was hot against her skin, “I can hardly imagine how you could become more sensitive here than you are now.”

Byleth frowned, uncomprehending.

“What do you-,”

“Does the mere thought of it excite you, Byleth? Knowing that soon you’ll be swollen with our children? You’ll certainly let me continue to pleasure you, won’t you? Whenever you have need of me, for whatever reason, I’ll be there, Byleth. You know this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Seteth,” the professor assured softly, “I know.”

“I’ll massage your feet when they start to swell. And cook up whatever you crave.”

“Well, I think you’ll just about faint away when I feel the first kick,” Byleth muttered.

Seteth chuckled but didn’t disagree.

He dropped his free hand between her legs and thumbed carefully at the professor’s clit. Byleth jerked beneath him, still sensitive from her earlier orgasm.

“It’s alright,” Seteth whispered, “let me do this for you, Byleth.”

“You don’t-, you don’t have to-,”

“I _want _to.”

Byleth relented wordlessly and nodded, relaxing beneath the adviser’s soft caress. The tension sank from her body and she hummed, pleased, as Seteth crooked his fingers within her, curling them as he moved, grazing her clit with each stroke.

“That’s a good Saint,” the professor praised quietly.

Seteth pinked at that comment but he seemed equally pleased as he was embarrassed. It was a good look; Byleth aimed to draw more of those darling reactions from him in the future.

She could hardly imagine what sort of things they’d do when she was heavy with their children. The thought of it had her pussy twitching and Seteth glanced up at her from beneath the droop of his long lashes.

“Though I’d like to think that was a result of my efforts,” he said, “I have a sneaking suspicion your thoughts are elsewhere, Professor.”

“Who can say?”

“Ah, you wicked woman,” Seteth snapped, though there was no venom in his tone, “are you perhaps simply unprepared to share such a fantasy with your husband?”

Byleth snorted.

“Oh, no,” she promised, “nothing like that, sweet Saint. Simply unwilling, that’s all.”

Seteth clicked his tongue, minute annoyance giving way to amusement. He rewarded Byleth’s teasing with a vicious massage of her clit. 

Her smile slipped from her face as she sank back against the pillows, gasping.

“Cichol-,”

“Let it happen now, Byleth,” Seteth encouraged gently, “it’ll be alright.”

The professor lifted a shaking hand and Seteth clasped it readily, the fingers of his free hand tangling between hers.

“Y-es-,” Byleth choked out, arching as the adviser pumped his fingers in and out of her.

She let out a soundless gasp, legs twitching as she came against Seteth’s palm.

“_Cichol_-,” she breathed, jerking her hip for some more friction as she rode out the spark of pleasure.

The adviser obliged, turning his attention solely upon her clit and thumbing at it as she rutted against him.

“_Ah_-,” Byleth hissed, “yes-, yes, alright that’s-, that’s good.”

Sensing she was coming down from her pleasure high, Seteth drew his fingers from her, wiping his hand on the sheet before pulling Byleth to his chest for an embrace.

“Set-, everything’s spilling out-,” she muttered.

“Oh, don’t mind it now, Professor,” he reassured, amused and yet also minutely aroused, “I’m certain now, that we’ve done all that can be done.”

“Imagine it, Seteth,” said Byleth as she reclined back against the pillows he’s amassed before any of this had started, “if this works, you and I-, we’ll be parents.”

Seteth curled up next to her, tucking his head beneath her jawline as he closed his eyes. Byleth trailed her fingers lazily through his hair.

“You did well,” she said softly, “I hope this heat wasn’t too difficult. I know you were worried.”

“I had you,” said Seteth simply.

And he slung an arm over the professor with an air of finality. Byleth only smiled. 

***

The professor met her cubs in the Dining Hall the following week for a large brunch. Mercedes had suggested it after the professor’s heat had prevented her from administering evening exams. 

Flayn seemed overjoyed by the prospect, squeezing herself right between Dimitri and Byleth with a contented sigh.

“Ah, Flayn,” the prince greeted softly, “it’s always nice to see you with a healthy helping of-,”

He glanced down at her plate. There were more fish than should ever be considered within the order of a breakfast dish.

Dimitri bit his lip. 

“Oh, this is just wonderful, isn’t it, Professor?” Flayn said, whipping around to look up at Byleth.

Byleth blinked and her gaze softened as she took in her gathered students. Ingrid was pressed up against Sylvain, pinching his ear with a scolding tone. Felix casually snatched a piece of her unguarded pastry and tossed it at Annette. Ashe ducked effortlessly beneath it, flipping to the next page of his book as Annette caught the pastry and offered it to Mercedes with a soft smile. Sylvain watched them wordlessly and just kept smiling at Ingrid. She growled at him. Dedue sighed contentedly at Dimitri’s other side.

“Yes,” Byleth murmured, “this is more wonderful than you know. I’m-, glad we’re doing this. It reminds me of-,”

Everything they’d done together. This was her House and these children were her Home and she loved them desperately. So desperately, in fact, that it often hurt. But that was the price of love, she supposed.

They were closing up the festivities when Seteth slipped into the Hall. Felix was already dragging Sylvain to the training grounds while Ashe absconded with Ingrid to the library, a promise of storytelling and tales of unmatched knights enough to ease the tension in her face. Dedue was returning Mercie’s wrap that she’d absentmindedly discarded. Annette was waving them off into town, claiming to need some extra time to study privately. Flayn and Byleth watched each of them head their separate ways.

“You’re not joining them?” the professor asked carefully.

Flayn shook her head, “Not yet. Mother.”

Byleth glanced down at her, “Are you-, is everything okay?”

The girl smoothed the pleats of her skirt and when she looked into Byleth’s face, her cheeks were tinged with blush. 

“Professor-,” she murmured, “do you know that you-, you smell-, your _scent_ is different.”

Byleth frowned, uncomprehending.

“My scent-?” she echoed.

The quest for an elaboration died on her tongue as Seteth approached them.

“Flayn,” he greeted quietly, and a soft smile sat at his lips, “Professor.”

Working through his heat had apparently done wonders for his attitude; the entirety of Garreg Mach was quietly up in arms about an alleged smile that settled across Seteth’s face when he went about his daily routine.

“Oh!” said Flayn, “Perhaps Father can clarify. It is truly none of my business just yet, Professor!”

Byleth nodded slowly, still uncertain of what this meant; she had switched shampoos, sure, but was that really such a cause for concern-?

“Clarify what, pray tell?” said Seteth.

Flayn collected her plate and then nodded to Byleth.

“Do not tell me you don’t know, Father!” she whispered, wide-eyed.

Byleth squinted at her. Seteth looked between the two of them for a long moment. And then he took in a measured inhale. 

His pupils slit and he clapped a hand over his mouth, taking a step back. Byleth got to a hurried stand, panicked. Before she could even open her mouth, Seteth took her hand in his own and pulled her after him into the corridor.

Flayn watched them, amused.

“Oh, Father,” she breathed, “how lovely this must be for you. I find myself so relieved that you and Mother are-,”

She trailed off with a smile. As she turned to return her plate, she caught sight of Dimitri watching her. He gave her a small wave. She grinned at him and he approached, sweeping her plate from her hands and picking up the Professor’s.

“I was just on my way to discuss week-end plans with the Gatekeeper. Would you-, like to join me?”

Flayn blinked, momentarily startled. But then, recalling that she _was _a member of his House, found that perhaps his offer was not so strange.

“Yes,” she said brightly, “I would very much like that.”

“I heard from Ignatz that you were well-versed in the history of the Saints,” Dimitri continued, “I was hoping you would be able to settle a disagreement between myself and Claude regarding Saint Cichol.”

Flayn giggled, “I would be more than happy to do so!”

***

“Seteth!” Byleth snapped when they were finally alone, “What is going _on_-?”

The adviser turned on her suddenly, crushing Byleth back against the wall. He nosed his way to her pulsepoint and slowly inhaled her scent.

“_Professor_-,” he rasped and his tone was husky enough to raise gooseflesh up Byleth’s arms, “_finally_-,”

“Wha-_ah_-!” the professor gasped as Seteth dug his teeth into the strip of skin just beneath her jawline.

He hummed against her throat, body pressed up against hers in the narrow shadow of the corridor.

“Set-Seteth-, someone may see-,”

He was not one who cared for others to know of his personal affairs; if someone were to-,

“_Byleth_-,” he murmured against her skin, “do you recall how you rode me merely one week ago?”

The professor blinked, uncomprehending; she couldn’t keep up with this side of him. What was going on?

“I remember.”

Seteth let out a pleased sigh, “I want-, I _would like_ if you would do that again for me.”

Byleth blinked.

“What, _here_?”

“Ah, but perhaps it would be better to simply be traditional about this…” Seteth mused to himself.

He’d missed Byleth’s joke completely. She resisted the urge to frown at him; Alois would’ve laughed. And likely, so would Dimitri. (Albeit not without a bit of blushing and sputtering).

“_Byleth_,” Seteth hissed, and his sharp tone brought her back to the present, “_don’t_.”

“Wh-,”

“Don’t think of the others,” he muttered, and there was a rare command in his voice, “think only of me.”

Byleth blinked again.

“Seteth, is something-, going on with you-?”

“I do rather think it is _you _that the something is going on with,” he replied softly.

The professor nodded, uncomprehending; he was jumping from one emotion to the next so quickly that she was having trouble reading him. Was this what it was like for everyone who interacted with _her_?

“I-,”

“Surely you can feel it,” breathed Seteth.

Byleth assumed he was not talking about his half-hard cock pressing against her thigh.

“Seteth-,”

“_Eisner_,” he murmured, nosing against the fabric of Byleth’s collar, “ah, it’s pleasing to know that finally, your scent has changed. I find myself almost-, _proud _to have been the one to fill you.”

It was only then that Byleth realised what Flayn had meant when she’d mentioned the professor smelling different. The Nabateans were like wolves in that regard then. 

“You can-, smell a pregnancy.”

“Yes,” agreed Seteth roughly, “yours. _Ours_.”

Byleth pinked at that, as though the truth was only now just settling in. All the tension left her body and Seteth hooked an arm around her middle on reflex.

“Professor,” the adviser murmured, “you must recall now, what I’ve told you.”

“What you-, told me?” she echoed.

Seteth growled incomprehensibly against her throat, “Yes-, pregnancy is only the beginning.”

Byleth blinked; the beginning of their family, sure, but-, that wasn’t quite what he was talking about, was it?

“I-, we must go-,” said Seteth, and his desperation was back despite a lack of heat, “I cannot-, we cannot stay out in the open as we are.”

At least he was beginning to see reason; it wouldn’t do for someone to see them plastered against one another like inexperienced lovers.

***

“It’s the middle of the day,” Byleth acknowledged as Seteth pulled her into his chamber and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before turning to lock the door.

“I ought to have noticed it earlier,” the adviser murmured to himself, dismayed, “but surely-, no, there is certainly still time-,”

“Seteth-,” said Byleth.

This anxious side of him was new; the only other time he’d been like this was during Flayn’s disappearance. Although, Byleth wondered if he’d been the same way when he’d heard about his late wife carrying Flayn.

The adviser pulled her to his chest, spun her around in a small circle, and then settled down on the edge of the bed with a shaky exhale.

“Now, Professor,” Seteth murmured, reaching up to undo the fastenings of his robes.

“My, someone’s certainly eager.”

“You’re pregnant.”

Byleth blinked, “I am, yes.”

“That’s good.”

The professor’s mouth twitched as she resisted an uneven smile; despite her uncertainly and the clenched fists she had atop her thighs, she was relieved that Seteth seemed equally anxious.

“Seteth-,”

“_Byleth_-,” he interrupted, and a bead of sweat slipped down his temple, “everything in me is demanding that I breed you here and now, and so fully that you can hardly walk. I-, am frightened nearly senseless by it.”

Byleth swallowed thickly. That was right. Seteth had said something about breeding earlier, hadn’t he? And perhaps now that Byleth was pregnant, that-, meant something-, right?

“Your body has accepted my seed,” he said, “which would make the two of us compatible mates.”

He was talking like they were a different species. But, in a way, weren’t they?

“Oh,” said Byleth because she could think of nothing else to say to that.

“And knowing what I know now,” Seteth continued, “I-, I want to have you beneath me, plump with my drakes.”

The professor nodded slowly.

“I-, alright, Seteth. I hear you. That’s all well and good with me, but-,”

“_It is_-?” he murmured, “You-, I-, I may breed you?”

Byleth looked at him. His pupils looked like needles in pools of deep verdant. Despite her confusion, she could not help but notice how handsome he was, half-bare beside her and aching with some primal need.

“But _first_-,” the professor said, and her voice was stern in the face of his eagerness, “I’ve got to admit I’m not quite sure I follow. Is it not enough that we’re to have a child? I’m pregnant, am I not?”

Seteth’s nostrils flared.

“You certainly are,” he confirmed.

Byleth nodded again, “Okay. Right. So, what’s this-, this ‘breeding’ business about then?”

Seteth flexed one of his hands, his draconic impatience and saintly pride duelling inside him.

“I-, yes. Right then. I suppose-, you’re like me-,” he paused to brush her light hair from her face, “and yet, different.”

His hand moved to trace her rounded ear.

“It is different now, than it was with-,” he trailed off and shook his head, “I-, seem still to possess the desire to breed with my mate—with _you_, Byleth—despite lacking my original form.”

When the professor said nothing, Seteth continued.

“It was always a complicated ritual,” he admitted, borderline sheepish, “but in this body, I find myself uncertain; I lack my usual-, parts.”

Byleth blinked.

“Oh, like an ovipositor?”

Seteth swung to stare at her, wide-eyed.

“Y-yes,” he said, “like an-, ovipositor.”

They were both quiet for a spell.

“Byleth.”

“Yes?”

“How-, no-, when you were researching your heat, just how much did you read?”

She frowned, thinking. Seteth sighed, the exhale tinged with exasperation.

“I simply-, you know quite a bit. About this. It seems.”

“Not much,” Byleth argued, “but if you’re saying you’re just going to fill me up, it’s a bit like last time, right?”

It was Seteth’s turn to frown.

“Perhaps it-, will not be so different…”

“Alright. Now that that’s settled, I feel a bit better. I-, I don’t mind to do any of this with you, Seteth, and I never _will_ mind to do it. But-, we need to communicate. I don’t do well in situations where I don’t understand what’s going on.”

It was no surprise; even the Ashen Demon was not immune to the meddling of fear in her affairs.

Seteth nodded, chastising himself internally for forgetting Byleth’s comfort in the face of his own desire.

When he went to search her face for any trace of disappointment—or worse, _fear_—Seteth was startled to find Byleth already gazing up at him with a look radiating warmth. It reminded him minutely of Sothis; perhaps it was precisely for moments like these, that Rhea had-, 

Byleth shed her overcoat and turned her back to him.

Seteth swallowed thickly as she glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Would you mind helping me? I’d like you to unclasp my breastplate.”

“I would very much like to do that for you, Professor.”

Byleth inhaled Seteth’s gentle sea-wind scent as he leant in to pull her dark blouse over her head. His skin was searing hot whenever they made contact and the professor couldn’t help but shiver; somehow, the air between them felt different—_supercharged_.

“Byleth-,” Seteth breathed as he traced the line of her collarbone slowly, “_Byleth-,_”

She pulled him into an embrace and ran her fingers through his hair.

“It’s alright, my sweet Saint,” she murmured quietly, “I’m pregnant with our child, you know. And now you’re going to breed me. Everything is alright.”

“Yes,” he breathed, relaxing against her, “you’re right, as always.”

Seteth nosed his way beneath her jawline and pressed a kiss to her neck. Byleth tipped her head back on reflex, welcoming the attention.

“Ah, like a true Nabatean,” the adviser hissed, and the drag of his sharp teeth across Byleth’s skin was enough to raise gooseflesh down her arms.

The professor gasped when Seteth finally bit down, sinking his teeth into her neck and marking her as his. Seteth moaned at the contact and Byleth could feel his achingly hard cock pressing against her thigh.

“Seteth-,” she whispered, clenching a fist in his dark hair, “again-, it’s not enough-,”

And it wasn’t. Something about this really _was_ different; she hadn’t felt this way before. Maybe her pregnancy had changed things up. But regardless, there was no denying that Byleth was already delirious from Seteth’s mouth upon her.

“Seteth-,”

When there was no response, save for the reverent drag of a warm tongue across the wound, Byleth let out a small sob.

“Ci- _Cichol_-,”

And Seteth released her immediately, rearing back to search her face.

“I’m-, I apologise, Byleth, I-,”

“It’s alright,” she reassured, sucking in a shallow breath, “I’m just a bit light-headed all of a sudden. I feel a bit-, strange.”

She looked up into Seteth’s face, worrying minutely that he would be disappointed in her—or worse: that he’d think she was ashamed to be with him—that was much too far from the truth.

But when she lifted her gaze, she was startled to see-,

“Professor-?” Seteth murmured as Byleth lifted a hand to cup his cheek.

“Your face,” she breathed, “you-, you’ve got scales, Seteth.”

The adviser jerked away from Byleth as though she’d struck him. A look of hurt flashed in her eyes but Seteth couldn’t think about that now.

He stumbled from the bed, his remaining garments bunching at his middle.

“J-just a moment, Professor,” he said, distracted as he turned towards the washroom.

Byleth blinked, staring at the wide scars down either side of his spine. She’d traced them before, the marks of his wings, when they’d first worked through her heat together. They looked like every other battle scar he’d accumulated over the years.

But now-,

“Seteth-,” she murmured, rising slowly and reaching out her hand, “there’s something else-,”

He slowed and when he looked at her over his shoulder, there was the weight of a heavy shame in his eye.

But it was gone in the next moment as he hung his head. With the initial panic having subsided, he seemed suddenly drained.

Byleth closed the space between them and traced her fingertips up the marks of his wings. The scars were radiating the faintest silver glow.

“Seteth, no-, _Cichol_,” the professor breathed, and she bent so her lips graced atop the vertebra of his spine, “you don’t have to hide from me. You will _never_ have to hide from me. Please, tell me you know that.”

When he didn’t reply, Byleth rested her weight against him, agonised by his silence. And she slowly lifted her arms to embrace him.

“You’re mine, you know,” she said, resting her cheek against his shoulder blade, “you may think I am yours but it goes both ways, beloved Saint. No matter how you may grow to detest me, I will forever love you, Cichol.”

“Though, in time, I may come to resemble a monster?”

“You will never be monstrous. Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Seteth turned slowly and Byleth released him. When she looked into his face, there were tears in his eyes.

“Byleth-,”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to speak. I can hear it,” the professor murmured, lifting a hand and setting it atop his left breast, “your heartbeat.”

“It beats only for you, Goddess.”

A small smile graced Byleth’s lips and she lifted her other hand to her belly.

“For both of us, I’d hope,” she teased quietly.

Seteth’s gaze softened and he pulled Byleth to his chest, splaying his hands wide across her back.

“Yes, of course. You’re right, as always, Professor.”

Byleth let out a small sigh, relieved that he seemed back to his old self.

“Now,” she said softly, “come back to bed, sweet Saint, and fulfil your natural need.”

Seteth took a step back so he could look down into her face. Byleth stared up at him and though her expression was impassive as ever, the adviser sensed that she was earnest.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and took her hand.

“Yes,” said Seteth, “I’d nearly forgotten what we came here to do, Professor.”

Byleth put a hand to his chest and pushed herself onto her tiptoes so she could press a kiss to his pulsepoint.

“Shall I remind you?”

“I think it’s-, suffice to say that you already have,” Seteth assured, amused as he followed Byleth back to the bed.

The professor pulled her hand from his so she could settle on her hands and knees across the bedspread. When she turned to look at Seteth, he was beet-red.

“By-Byleth-,”

“Is this not the position you want?” she wondered, “I thought I read something about an all-fours p-,”

“_Professor_-!” interrupted Seteth, before clearing his throat, “I-, am truly curious to see what you believe constitutes for an academic source on the subject. But-, that aside-, please, I could never-, not like this. I would much prefer to see your face.”

Byleth blinked at him. And then she blushed. Seteth chuckled, amused, as she went limp on the bed, groaning with embarrassment into the mattress.

“It’s alright, you’re alright, Professor,” the adviser reassured as his weight sank onto the bed beside her, “I’m truly flattered by such an offer.”

“I feel like a fool,” muttered Byleth as she flipped over and gazed up at him.

Seteth brushed her fringe from her face and sighed, “We should-, it would be best to-,”

His gaze dropped to the mark he’d made at her neck. Byleth regarded him quietly before dropping her hand down to her trousers so she could unbutton them. She’d kicked off her boots and Seteth carefully removed the armour at her left knee that guarded her old wound; he was always watching for any sign of discomfort and that gesture brought Byleth immense comfort.

“Seteth-,”

The adviser lifted one of Byleth’s legs and he bent. He opened his mouth slowly and his pointed teeth gleamed beneath the glow of the setting sun. His eyelids fluttered and his grip on the professor’s leg tightened.

“_Byleth_-,”

“I need to take my hose off first.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.”

Seteth released her and the professor studied him for a long moment.

“Professor-,” he began quietly, “I would-, if you wouldn’t mind it, perhaps I could remove them for you.”

Byleth blinked.

“That’s all fine but-, why?”

“It’s selfish of me to ask such a thing of you,” Seteth admitted as he pulled Byleth’s hosiery down to her knees, “but I want to be the only one to do this for you.”

“You can’t always be the one to disrobe me, sly Saint.”

Seteth’s head whipped up at the comment and he stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Who else would you have disrobe you?”

Byleth squinted at him.

“My-, self, Seteth.”

The adviser was quiet for a moment. And then he chuckled, his tension melting beneath the light-hearted sound.

“Right. Of course.”

“I’m yours, Cichol,” said Byleth as Seteth freed her legs from her hosiery, “you know that, don’t you?”

Before the adviser could reply, Byleth hummed and amended her statement.

“What I mean to say is: I’m your mate and you have me, now and always. Do you understand?”

At the words, Seteth snorted.

“Your tactics are underhanded,” he muttered, amused, “using that phrase with me when you know how torturous it is.”

“I wanna see you sweat.”

“You are too cruel, Goddess.”

“Perhaps the Saint would like to administer some divine punishment?” suggested Byleth, a devious glint in her light eyes.

“The Saint feels that that is extremely inappropriate.”

But Seteth seemed unbothered by it, if the teasing trail of his thumb across the fabric of Byleth’s panties was any indication.

The professor jerked at the sudden attention and Seteth hummed, pleased.

“Ah, perhaps I ought to amend my previous statement; though, it was never my intention of punish you, Byleth. Even now—_especially_ now—with the-, breeding.”

The professor hadn’t noticed earlier but Seteth tended to spit the word. And, come to think of it, it had been like that before too, when he’d first learnt of Byleth’s own heat; he’d gotten so upset with her spending time with Hanneman while she was dipping in and out of it-,

“Seteth?”

“Byleth-, am I-, going too quickly?”

His fingers were tucked beneath the waistband of her panties. Byleth wasn’t the least bit concerned; she had faith in him.

“It isn’t that,” she said, “more-, are you-, do you actually _want_ to do this?”

The adviser blinked.

“Wh-,”

“It’s just-, if you don’t want to do-,”

“I must-,” Seteth said, and there was that anxiety from earlier resurfacing at last-, “I _must _do it, for the sake of the Nabatean line.”

“Well what about for the sake of _you_, Cichol? I won’t be bred by you if you don’t want this.”

“You _will _be bred, Eisner,” he all but growled.

Byleth blinked and a disbelieving smile tugged at the left corner of her mouth.

“Oho?” she whispered, “Is this the return of the domineering alpha? I was wondering if he was going to show up…”

Seteth didn’t seem to take kindly to Byleth’s simplification of his personality, and he bent to pin the professor’s hands on either side of her head.

She opened her mouth to deliver another snarky comment, but Seteth licked between her lips, tasting her deeply.

The professor seized up at the attention and Seteth nudged his knee between her thighs, giving her the perfect place to rut. Byleth didn’t need to be told what came next.

Seteth kissed his way down the professor’s neck, paying ample attention to her hammering pulse and the bruised skin at her pulsepoint. Byleth struggled beneath him, seeming discontent with being pinned.

“You mustn’t fight me now, Professor,” Seteth warned, his lips brushing across her skin with each word.

As soon as she had regained her breath, Byleth snorted at him.

“You’re not serious; for Goddess’s sake, I’m the Ashen Demon. I’m not meant to be pinned down and fucked, Seteth.”

“But you are to be bred and I will breed you as I see fit, Eisner,” he reminded, and there was a finality in his tone that Byleth found oddly refreshing.

Perhaps, just this once, she would allow-,

“Be good, Professor,” said Seteth, pulling back to remove his remaining garb.

Byleth took it upon herself to shimmy out of her panties, even if only to rob Seteth of removing them himself.

He seemed minutely upset that she hadn’t allowed him one of the simplest pleasures in life but once he saw her wet, he didn’t seem so bothered anymore.

The adviser flexed his hand again and Byleth realised it was how he dealt with fighting his own impulses; knowing that he was fighting one now was kind of-,

“Cute-,” she murmured, more to herself than to Seteth.

“I would like-, I want to taste you,” Seteth said, and the words came so readily that he blushed.

Byleth shrugged beneath him, “I wouldn’t stop you, of course. But do remember that we’re-,”

“I remember,” Seteth ground out, annoyed that he had to fulfil his draconic need first and foremost.

“There’s always later,” offered Byleth, amused.

The adviser hummed noncommittally.

“You said you were going to breed me, Seteth.”

“I am quite aware of what I said, Professor.”

Byleth tipped her head to one side and regarded him quietly. 

“Come _on_ then,” she said, “can’t you tell I want you?”

For a long moment, it seemed as though Seteth had short-circuited. He simply stared down at Byleth as her words registered; it took an eternity.

“Professor, I-, find it rather difficult to control myself when you say such things. Please take care in the future; I will be unable to forgive myself if I were to bring harm to you in any way.”

Byleth frowned.

“What happened to that Saint who swore to pin me down and breed me? I’ve accepted your seed and can bear any offspring you put inside me. I’m pregnant with your child as we speak-! Do you still hold some reservations?”

“No. I desire this more than anything, Byleth.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“I’m-, apprehensive.”

The word stung a bit, to hear that even after everything—after all the trust and faith that Byleth put in him—that Seteth still didn’t feel the same.

“It is not-, I simply fear that once I begin, Professor, that I will lose myself. The thought of that paralyses me. I fear that I will go mad with this primal desire that is so alien to me. I fear that I will use you—that I will have my way with you until you break from the pleasure of it all.”

Byleth considered this.

“Your worries are not unfounded,” she allowed, “but, if my mind were to be shattered by any force, I would welcome it should it be pleasure by your hand.”

She paused.

“Or should I say… cock, rather-?”

They were both quiet. 

And then Seteth snorted. Byleth smiled and after a moment, she giggled and tossed her head back and laughed. And the sound was so perfect and Seteth loved her so much in that moment. 

And he loved her even more when she gasped beneath him as the head of his cock pressed against her pussy.

When she breathed a soft: “_Finally_,” Seteth was certain he wouldn’t last the next few minutes with her. But that was alright. In the end, the breeding didn’t really matter to him. It was something that his draconic self needed—just a desire to be sated. Seteth himself was content with just making love to Byleth and taking care of her as they cultivated their lives together, as they raised their child—maybe even _children_—together.

“You’re making a-, ridiculous face,” the professor bit out between pants.

Seteth rewarded that comment with a deep thrust.

Byleth tossed her head back with another gasp.

“This is what I get for speaking my mind-?”

“Do not mock me,” said Seteth, though there was no real venom in his voice.

“You just looked like you were having some sappy thought.”

The adviser hoisted her calves up to his hips, focusing on the slow rhythm he’d set so he didn’t have to look into Byleth’s face.

“I was only thinking that I’m glad,” he said, and it was oddly freeing to admit.

Byleth blinked up at him, curling her hands in the sheets as she frowned, uncomprehending.

“In the end,” said Seteth, “to be with you like this, Byleth, it makes the wait worth it. I was so certain that it would simply be myself and Cethleann until the sun died and the world froze over. But now-, I’m _with_ you. I’m with _you_, Byleth. And I am-, so gladdened that I feel my heart may burst from my chest.”

Byleth stared up at him, unblinking as she took this information in. And then she smiled up at him, lifting a hand to cup his scaled cheek.

“Oh, Cichol,” she breathed, “I want to stay with you forever.”

Seteth’s rhythm faltered and Byleth smirked up at him.

“You’re so easy to rattle, Saint.”

The adviser clasped her hands in his own, pinning them back in their places on either side of Byleth’s head. She frowned at him, even as he tangled his fingers between hers.

“Don’t tease me, Professor.”

“Don’t be so tease-able then.”

Seteth growled at her and Byleth chuckled to herself, amused. The adviser was quick to change that sound with a few choice bites to the pulsepoint.

Byleth didn’t tease him after that.

“Deeper, Seteth,” she said and her voice was strained enough to make the adviser proud, “you’re breeding me after all, aren’t you?”

“Yes-,” mused Seteth, “I am, but, Byleth-, about that-,”

She blinked and looked into his face, “What is it?”

“I’m not certain myself,” he admitted, “but I feel as though-, something’s missing. This is-, not unlike all-, all the other times.”

Byleth frowned. And with Seteth’s focus elsewhere, his grip on her hands had loosened. The professor slipped free and slung her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her level so she could cross her ankles across his back.

“How’s this, then?” she asked, and her breath was hot against the shell of Seteth’s ear, “Is it proximity you need, sweet Saint?”

The adviser’s breath caught in his throat and Byleth traced the cartilage of his ear with her tongue. Seteth gasped against her shoulder.

“Or maybe more stimulation?”

Byleth dug her teeth into his earlobe and Seteth came inside her with a strangled sob.

“There’s a good Saint,” she praised.

Seteth readjusted and the movement had him thrusting into the professor at a new angle. She squirmed, hands searching for purchase across his back. And then she settled for simply digging her fingernails into his exposed skin.

Seteth gasped as Byleth’s nails skittered down the scars of his wings.

“_Byleth_-,” he choked, “that’s-,”

“_Seteth_-,” she interrupted, desperate, “I-, Cichol-, I’m-,”

He couldn’t focus on the tingling across his back, not when Byleth was-,

Seteth looked down at her. Her cheeks were stained with blush, lips bruised and gaze hazy. The adviser thumbed at her clit, tracing gentle circles around her sensitive nub and Byleth threw her head back with a cry, scratching her way up and down his back as she came around his cock, pussy clenching.

“Byleth, are you-,”

“_Cichol_-,” she spat, “you’re wrong-, it _is _different. This is-, different than the other times. Please-, _please_-,”

She’d already come, what could she be-, what did she need?

“Professor, what’s-, what do I-, what do you want?”

“_Need_,” Byleth corrected hazily as her pussy spasmed around the adviser’s cock, “I need-, you must-, no, I-, I did read about-,”

Again with the research-, Seteth needed to re-evaluate the library’s content at the earliest convenience; hearing about Byleth’s apparent half-formed thesis regarding draconic heats was beginning to get a bit-, tedious.

“It’s an agreement, right? Nabateans are-, so very strange,” she muttered.

“Byleth, what are you-,”

“It’s an _agreement_,” she repeated with more feeling, “you certainly want to breed me, right, Cichol?”

“I must,” Seteth agreed.

Byleth nodded and swallowed thickly, shifting her hips to meet his. Seteth decided against commenting on the manoeuvre.

The professor’s eyes rolled and she sighed, equally as exhausted as she was exasperated, having now figured out their error.

“Breed me,” she said, and her words were heavy between them, “I want you to _breed me_, Cichol.”

The adviser blinked; was this-, the agreement she was talking about?

Byleth sucked in a shallow inhale and lifted her gaze to his face.

“Do you-, understand?”

That damn phrase again…

“_Yes_,” Seteth answered.

And he did. 

***

When the adviser shoved into Byleth again, she gasped, the sound delicious against the shell of his ear.

“I-, I feel we’re close, Professor,” Seteth breathed.

To what, exactly, he wasn’t sure. But that probably wasn’t the best thing to say to Byleth.

The next shift of his cock had the professor raking her nails up and down his back again, the ferocity of the movement nearly blinding as pain split down Seteth’s back.

“_Byleth_-,” he gasped again, “you mustn’t-, be so rough-,”

“I can’t help it-,” Byleth spat by way of apology, “I-, it feels right, to mark you like this.”

Seteth blinked. It felt… right?

Before he could think more on it, Byleth kissed his pulsepoint. The brief contact of her lips against his skin was the only warning for what came next.

The professor opened her mouth and bit into his throat, marking him just as he’d done to her. 

When Byleth next raked her fingernails down his back, pleasure curled down his spine and the adviser moaned at the attention.

“Byleth, I-, I do think you may be onto something-,” he choked.

The professor stuck out her tongue and traced the mark she’d made at his neck.

“Now we’re both marked,” she said, “like real mates.”

That was what they’d needed; their verbal agreement hadn’t been enough. But this action—this proof—that was enough to make this thing between them real.

A chill wriggled its way up Seteth’s spine and he trembled from the force of it, his pattern faltering in the face of such a strange sensation.

It was familiar, somehow. But not too familiar.

“Seteth-?”

“Byleth-, I think-,”

The rest of his sentence died on his tongue as he curled forward, pressing his forehead to Byleth’s shoulder.

“_Byleth_-,” the adviser hissed, “Byleth, something’s-, happening.”

The professor stared at the two scars on either side of Seteth’s spine. Once again, they were radiating that silver glow, bathing the room in gentle light.

“Well,” said Byleth, “I should say so. I-, might be going mad, Cichol, but I think that maybe-, your earlier prediction was right.”

“My-, prediction-?” Seteth echoed, mystified.

The professor nodded, “Uh, yep. Remember that thing you said about-, transforming? How you thought you’d only made yourself forget to protect yourself and Cethleann?”

“Y-yes-, what of it?”

“You were right,” she murmured, “because you’re transforming right now, Seteth.”

***

Seteth blinked, eyes wide with disbelief. But sure enough, two wings of argent gossamer unfurled from his back. After a tense moment, they unfolded as Seteth lifted his head, rolling his shoulders as his wings stretched out around the two of them.

Byleth could do little more than stare. She’d seen Rhea transform, sure, but that was in the heat of battle and Garreg Mach had been under attack and that was all quite stressful.

But this-, this wasn’t like that at all. Here was Seteth, her lover and beloved husband, reclaiming himself at long last, piece by piece. 

And he was beautiful.

“Cichol-,”

The glow of his wings offset a halo of silver light behind his head and Byleth finally understood why the Nabateans were hailed as Saints; Seteth looked simply divine.

He removed himself from between the professor’s legs and stumbled awkwardly from the bed. Seteth was suddenly uncertain on his feet, trembling beneath the weight of his newfound wings. He stared down at his arms as patches of scales materialised and his hands curled into claws. His tail was next, slipping effortlessly into existence and settling across the worn rug in the middle of his bedchamber.

“I’m-,”

Seteth bent, shaking as his legs folded.

“Byleth-,” he choked, dropping to one knee, “it-, it hurts-,”

The professor tripped from the bed and fell to her own knees before him, setting a chilling palm to his scaled cheek.

“It’s alright,” she murmured carefully, rubbing circles across one of the scale patches on his arm, “you’re alright. It’s all natural, it’s meant to happen, Seteth. Let this happen, Seteth.”

He nodded and Byleth held him against herself as the partial transformation settled across him like a chiffon blanket.

“Don’t move too much,” she said, “just stay here for a bit, Cichol. It’ll be alright. I’ll stay with you. You’re still fragile, still adjusting.”

She prayed she sounded calmer than she felt; Byleth hadn’t the slightest idea what to do to help him. And some part of that was new. And it hurt.

“_Professor_,” Seteth said, and something in his tone made Byleth’s hair stand on-end.

“Yes-?”

“I think I’m quite alright,” he murmured against her shoulder.

Byleth leant back to get a good look at him. When it became obvious that he was dead-serious, she lifted a brow.

“Do you recall what you said earlier?” asked Seteth.

Byleth had said a lot of things earlier.

“I said a lot of things earlier.”

“Yes. Right. Of course. I mean specifically in regards to-, ovipositors.”

Byleth blinked slowly at him. And then she dropped her gaze between his scaled legs.

“Oh, sweet Sothis.”

“And, another thing,” said Seteth, clearing his throat awkwardly, “about your earlier offer-,”

“My earlier-,”

Oh. _Oh_.

Byleth let out a slow exhale.

“Alright,” she said, “if you’re sure. Of course you’re sure. That was a silly thing to say. This is definitely what’s supposed to happen. So, let’s not put it off any longer.”

She made to stand and return to the bed but Seteth caught her with a heavy hand and pulled her back to his level.

“No, Eisner,” he murmured, “right here.”

Byleth stared at him.

“Devilish Saint.”

“I need you, Professor.”

She sighed.

“I know.”

Byleth threw most of her weight onto her hands; it was easier that way, especially with the old wound at her left knee. She bent her back and Seteth sucked in a sharp inhale behind her.

“_Professor_-,”

“Do it, Seteth,” she whispered, tossing a glance at him over her shoulder, “everything is finally in order. You can breed me just the way you want.”

“That’s right,” mused Seteth, more to himself than to her, “you’re absolutely right, Byleth.”

Before the professor could make any more comments regarding the size or shape of anything even remotely related to Seteth’s spontaneous ovipositor, he set it to her pussy and she gasped as he parted her upon it.

“_Cichol_-,” she choked, “my _Goddess_, that’s-, it’s-,”

But the rest of her sentence died on her tongue as she bit her lip to stop the guttural sound that had risen in her throat at the intrusion between her legs.

Seteth set his clawed hands to her hips and drew her back upon his ovipositor, the weight of it bottoming out inside her.

“_Seteth, Seteth, _gonna-,” Byleth trembled beneath him, shifting her hips desperately, “gonna _cum_-,”

And then her pussy was clenching around the adviser’s ovipositor as Byleth came with a shaky sob. She shifted, tossing her weight onto her elbows so she could rest her forehead against her forearms.

“Professor-,” Seteth murmured, and his voice was strained, “this is it, now. I’m going to-,”

“Breed me, Cichol,” Byleth whispered.

And that did it. Seteth came with a groan, leaning back in an attempt to fit himself even deeper into the professor.

Byleth’s back ached beneath the weight of him as the adviser came inside her, thick load after thick load. And just when the professor was certain he’d split her right in two, Seteth eased a hand around her middle in support.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Byleth,” he murmured, “you’re taking it all so well, Professor.”

Well, the praise certainly helped ease Byleth’s pain. Seteth hummed in quiet contemplation as they both waited for him to soften within her.

“Perhaps your earlier comment was not so far from the truth,” he mused.

Byleth resisted the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation; she had said a lot of things earlier. What was he referring to now?

“I recall promising that I would not keep you here and breed you,” he said, “and yet I have done just that.”

“Oh, that’s alr-,”

“But that isn’t all,” Seteth continued, and Byleth fell silent with interest, “even with such a desire sated at last, still I find myself-, shamefully tempted by you, Professor.”

Byleth blinked and turned to stare at him over her shoulder, startled by the admission.

“I want-, I would like to keep you this way,” Seteth said, more to himself than to her, “but for now, perhaps memory shall suffice.”

“I should hope so,” said Byleth with a soft scoff, “why don’t we reserve that for a less-, tumultuous time in our lives?”

She paused.

“Although there are the children to think about,” she murmured, “it’ll be harder to find time for ourselves, you know. But I’m sure that’s quite alright with you, isn’t it, Seteth?”

When the professor glanced back to his face, Seteth was beet-red again and he could only offer her a wordless nod.

***

“You know,” said Byleth, setting a hand to her belly as Seteth lowered her onto the bed, “I wasn’t expecting to look like this for at least a few more months.”

“I-, apologise,” said Seteth.

He held his clawed hands in front of himself, seeming suddenly unused to occupying his own body; not that Byleth could blame him.

“Also,” said Byleth, watching him from beneath her eyelashes, “don’t ovipositors usually deposit, I dunno-, _eggs_?”

Seteth reddened.

“I would not know,” he admitted.

Byleth shrugged, “It makes no difference to me.”

She paused.

“But this-,” and the professor gestured to her swollen belly, “will disappear faster than an egg. Or would it be… multiple eggs?”

When she looked at Seteth to get his input, he had put a heavy hand over his mouth and screwed his eyes shut.

“Oh,” said Byleth, “I didn’t mean to-, is this-, is this doing something to you? Perhaps… _for _you-?”

“I will not dignify that question with a response.”

Despite Seteth’s stony comment, the professor found that she could only smile.

“Come here,” she said, patting the bed lazily, “hold me. You can think of this as a test run for a few months from now when I’m really as swollen as the azure moon.”

Seteth slotted himself into bed behind her, spooning her narrow frame with his own. After a moment, Byleth took Seteth’s clawed hand and set it to her belly.

“Imagine a kick,” she murmured gently.

“Soon.”

“Yes,” Byleth agreed.

Seteth hummed, pleased. Byleth closed her eyes and focused on the steady beat of the adviser’s heart against her shoulder blade.

“When do you want to tell the others?” she asked into the darkness.

There was a slight movement at her back and the professor realised Seteth was shrugging.

“Ah, a decision for a later date, then.”

Seteth hummed again and nosed his way against Byleth’s neck.

“I s’ppose that tired you out, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but, I am relieved.”

“Yeah,” said Byleth, “me too.”

They were both quiet for a long moment.

“Byleth,” said Seteth.

“Yes?”

“You have a seminar in the Cardinals’ Room tomorrow afternoon,” he reminded.

Byleth groaned, “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Leave your overcoat.”

The professor glanced at Seteth over her shoulder, uncomprehending.

“What?”

“Won’t you leave it with me, Professor? I would like to-, hold onto it.”

When Byleth said nothing, Seteth elaborated.

“What I mean to say is-, your scent fades from the sheets too quickly,” he admitted, “and I find myself doubting I’ll be up and about tomorrow.”

“You’re unbelievable,” snorted Byleth, “but I s’ppose the walk isn’t far, so I don’t mind.”

Seteth traced meaningless runes across the professor’s swollen belly in the silence.

“Thank you,” he said finally.

“What else am I to do? When you sound so desperate like that, it makes it very hard to resist you.”

“That is the idea, Professor.”

“Sly Saint.”

“Hush,” said Seteth, “both of you need your rest now.”

Byleth blushed at the mention of their child; she’d nearly forgotten in all the haze of the breeding panic.

“Oh my Goddess,” she said with a soft gasp.

“What is it? Professor?”

“We need to think of a name,” said Byleth.

Seteth chuckled against her shoulder.

“There is plenty of time.”

“Maybe we should ask Flayn. Or perhaps the cubs could vote on a name! I’m sure Sylvain has some interesting ideas.”

“We will not be doing that.”

Byleth giggled, “Suit yourself. You and I both know Dimitri, at least, would come up with a suitable one.”

“I pray you jest,” muttered Seteth, “for that is most certainly not the case.”

“What? No way. He’d be great at it! I bet he already picked the name for his son ages ago; we’re way behind, Seteth.”

“He is not naming our child, Byleth.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Having a daughter named Gautier Cheese Eisner, if you really must know.”

Byleth snorted and then after a moment, she burst into laughter. The joy wracked her entire body and Seteth found himself smiling just from the sheer force of it.

“Perhaps when we find Rhea, she could-, she could help us choose a name. Something appropriate, something suitable for the child of a Saint and the Goddess Reborn.”

Seteth sighed against Byleth. He didn’t deserve this, deserve _her_, surely. And yet, here she was, falling asleep in his arms and carrying their child.

The adviser rested his head against her shoulder blade.

“Yes, Byleth,” he murmured against her skin, “I would like that very much.”

There was an unsaid promise there, that they would all be together again. 

“We’ll have to take them to see Macuil and Indech too, you know,” said Byleth.

“Ah, Flayn will want to come along, then.”

The professor smiled to herself in the darkness. She thought of her father, who had been so concerned that she’d have trouble adjusting.

“We’ll all go together,” Byleth murmured.

Seteth closed his eyes and his argent wing blanketed across them like a gossamer gown.

“Yes,” he agreed quietly, “we certainly will.”

They would be alright. Finally, they’d both be alright again.

**Author's Note:**

> in case youre curious, only Felix, Annette, and Ingrid could provide a suitable name for Byleth's heir.  
(Ashe and Dedue would both suggest "Dimitri" while Mercedes and Sylvain wouldn't know where to start; they both suggest "Death Knight" for different reasons. Dimitri himself would probably recommend "Lambert" without really thinking it through and then get flustered when he realises he's essentially asking his adopted parents to name their kid after his late father).
> 
> anyway i love seteth a lot and i could talk about him forever; feel free to keep me company on tumblr @soekkvabekkr or hit me up on my barren twitter @actualcrowbeau <3 
> 
> thanks again for the read, mates, its been fun!


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